112 The Beauty of Chaos (2/2)
”Good.”
”All or nothing.”
”Exactly.”
”So I don't have a choice, after all,” said Odongo. Brock hissed with exasperation.
”What's so fucking bad about appointing a deputy governor?” he asked. ”I would have done it for sure if it weren't for the fact that I live here. Lots of guys are doing just that, lots! Why, that Canadian broad, whatshername, Lepine, she's appointed TWO deputies. And she's just across the border.”
”I don't have anyone I can trust.”
”You said that already. It's bullshit. You have total power over your deputy. You can fire his ass the moment he speaks out of turn, you understand? You don't need to trust him. You don't need to trust him because you got an iron hand on his balls, twisting hard just so he remembers who is the boss. And when you get bored with that, you fire him and get a new pair of balls to twist. What's so fucking difficult about that?”
”I don't know if I'm up to all this twisting,” said Odongo.
”Balls. I mean, bullshit. You know what you do? You appoint someone you hate, your worst enemy as deputy governor. Then you'll enjoy the twisting, Nelson. You'll go in singing let's twist again, like we did last summer. And you'll completely neutralize him as an enemy at the same time. More, he will be grateful to you because you're making him rich.”
”You make it sound so easy,” Odongo said suspiciously.
”It is easy. What's not easy is making up your mind to do it. That's always the worst part. But you don't really have a choice, right? Unless you want to raise chickens, or ruin that beautiful tie.”
”Appointing my worst enemy as my deputy,” Odongo said. ”That's brilliant, Carlton. I'd have never come up with this solution.”
Pouting with pride, Brock said:
”Keep your friends close, and your enemies even closer. It pays to remember that, Nelson. It's good to remember it at all times.”
”Thank you.”
”Now listen,” said Brock, ”Do you think we'll run into any trouble this afternoon? I mean, are we going to have a bunch of people making moronic proposals?”
”Like mine?”
”If you want to put it that way,” said Brock, and smiled disarmingly.
”I think I can tell you several members will propose moving the deadline. By a month, by six months, maybe even by a year.”
”That's absolutely impossible.”
”Carlton, the first of March is three days away.”
”I know.”
”Nothing has been organized properly. Jean Caron told me that so far, less than five percent of all governors have been appointed! Over ninety five percent of all governor posts remain vacant.”
”The national governors have all been appointed, and that's all that matters,” said Brock. ”And I can tell you I have already appointed all of the governors that come under me. I don't see why others can't do it, too. It's easy, just pick a local politician or businessman or activist or even a fucking criminal, whoever you think will get the job done. You can always fire them anytime, anyway. Jesus! What's the matter with all you people? Everyone seems to have difficulty grasping basic concepts.”
”Carlton, you've appointed fifty one state territory governors. That's likely less than one thousandth of the total you need.”
”Not my problem,” Brock said firmly. ”It's the problem of the guys I've appointed. That's why I appointed them, in the first place. For fuck's sake, Nelson, stop it. You're reducing me to tears. Tears of despair.”
”But Carlton, on the first of March no one will have enough money. The local governments won't have enough for the monthly minimum income payouts. They are supposed to start on the first along with everything else! And what about the whole retail chain? It cannot function without money.”
”People can write scrips and IOUs and promissory notes,” Brock said. ”People will learn how to function without money when it isn't there. They will write notes or checks or however the fuck you want to call it, they will barter, they will offer services in exchange for goods. People are good at adapting when they have no other choice. You know, Nelson, I once talked to a guy doing life in jail. He said it was the best time of his life. He did a couple of degrees in something and was about to start on a third. Shows what people can do under difficult circumstances.”
”Most people wouldn't have been capable of that.”
”Then maybe they are meant to die,” snapped Brock. ”Life is a privilege, not a right.”
Odongo was silent for a moment. Eventually he said:
”I've seen too many refugee camps to disagree with that, Carlton.”
”Great,” said Brock. ”So are we all set? Doubts dispelled, and ready to deal with stupid shit all afternoon?”
”I think so,” said Odongo. ”Thank you, Carlton. I really needed this talk.”
”You're welcome.”
Brock refreshed his drink the moment Odongo was gone. He sipped it, thinking: what was the matter with all those people? Why were they all so scared?
But of course he knew why everyone was so scared. People were always scared of change. And yet they craved change at the same time, wanted change to happen. But they wanted change without any change to their security. They wanted change with things staying the same, or better. So they carefully organized and engineered every change they had to make, fucked around with it until it made no real difference.
True change couldn't be organized. True change was chaotic by definition, and chaos was good. Chaos was good because it forced people to reassess their priorities. And no real change was possible in the first place without people reassessing their priorities.
Brock loved chaos. He was much better at reorienting himself than most people. He truly shone in chaotic circumstances. And he believed chaos was both beneficial and necessary to progress, to achieving something good. It was a little like wine-making: crushing wonderful ripe fruit and letting it all go bad and rot and ferment, and the end product? Wine, delicious wine, one of the most important discoveries ever made!
But bourbon wasn't bad either, thought Brock. In fact, often it took bourbon to hit the spot.
He had a feeling he'd need a couple after lunch, before the two o'clock meeting. Maybe even three.
He could hear those losers going on already. We don't know what to do! We're moving too fast with this! Whatever we do, there will be trouble! Carlton, help me!
”Assholes,” he said to the empty room.
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